


A Court of Three Sisters

by gitanadelsol



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anthology, Black Family, F/M, Family, Gen, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gitanadelsol/pseuds/gitanadelsol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An anthology on the lives of the Black sisters: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. How one man's rise to power, and the wars that resulted, tore the Black girls apart. Rated T for mild language and references. Will be updated weekly (probably on Fridays, though it may change to Mondays).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was started well before the Black family tree was published, and so the birthdays of the characters are different from canon. In this fic, the birthdays of major characters are as follows:
> 
> Bellatrix Black: 24 March 1954  
> Andromeda Black: 30 August 1955  
> Narcissa Black: 11 April 1958
> 
> Sirius Black: 25 November 1959  
> Regulus Black: 6 August 1961
> 
> All information and plot-line is book-compliant. Most of the trivia information is adhered to.
> 
> Most of the characters in here, as well as the Harry Potter franchise, belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not profit from this writing and in no way claim to be the creator of these fabulous characters. I simply fleshed them out and added backstories to them.
> 
> Happy reading!

It was late into the night, well past midnight, and the raging storm plunged the whole of Henley-on-Thames into darkness. The streets were deserted; the residents, both human and animal, magical and non-magical alike, had taken shelter in their homes a long time ago. Usually, groups of adolescents could still be seen (more oftentimes heard) walking about the streets, laughing with one another and exchanging gossip, throwing bits of food to the stray cats that had long ago traded in their skills of hunting for those of begging. But no soul would willingly be out in this sort of weather.

The only creature foolish enough to be out at such an hour in such conditions was a lone witch dressed in a dark traveling cloak. She scurried up the little cobblestone path, weaving between the larger puddles to avoid soiling her cloak any more than it already was. She kept her head bowed and pulled the hood of her cloak more firmly over her head. The woman cut left at the fork, muttering under her breath until she finally reached the entrance of the wrought iron fence that had been running alongside her for several muddy yards already. She leaped over a puddle and, breathing heavily, came to a halt before a pair of gargoyles, who scowled down at her.

“Your name and purpose?” one of them asked in a coarse voice.

“Patty Caulderson,” she panted. “My purpose is – I’m here for – I’m the midwife’s assistant. Please, Mrs. Cordelia Argall should be in already.”

The other gargoyle grumbled but, with a great ruffling of stone wings and a flick of its whip-like tail, the gates swung inward, creaking loudly on their hinges. Patty didn’t bother waiting for the gates to open all the way. She darted inside the grounds and raced up the driveway to the magnificent house standing proudly at the center. As she took the brass handle in her hand, she took a shuddering breath and then, biting her lip, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She was greeted by a man who, by his regal stance and luxurious attire, could only have been the master of the house. He introduced himself as Cygnus Black, his beady eyes appraising her from head to foot. His lip curled into a contemptuous sneer as his eyes lingered on her frizzy chestnut curls, the thread-bare robes exposed now that she had discarded her traveling cloak, and her battered boots. He ignored her stream of apologies and, with a low sort of grunt, turned on his heel and marched up a flight of stairs to a small, secluded room in the east wing on the second floor. Patty followed in his wake, keeping up a one-sided conversation to fill the silence.

The girl was visibly relieved when a short witch with graying hair and sharp, dark eyes opened the door. She wasted no time in reprimanding the girl (“Where have you _been_? Do you think children wait for when it’s convenient to arrive? None of your excuses; get yourself thoroughly washed and changed”) and setting her to work. The woman gave the man a cursory look and a stiff nod. Then she closed the door, muffling the cries of pain and the barking of orders from within, and Cygnus Black was left, once more, to pass the time with his own devices.

He lost no time in returning to his previous engagement of sitting in the small private study at the other end of the hall, lounging on the plush leather seat and sipping on a chilled glass of gin and tonic. Though he was loathe to admit it, the man was anxious in the face of the birth of his third child. There was a lot riding on this birth. If all did not end as he hoped, if it came as another disappointment…well, there would be no other chances.

He was left for a long while in that study. The continuous drumming of raindrops against the windowpane and the lilting moaning of the wind was broken only once by a mighty scream. He had jumped to his feet at once, wondering what the matter could be, thoughts immediately turning to all manners of Dark creatures that liked hiding in dark crevices. But then he heard a door slam and a stern cry of, “Miss Bella! That is quite enough!” and he settled back into his seat comfortably. It was only his eldest throwing another one of her tantrums and was not, in his opinion, a cause for alarm.

The midwife came for him just as the grandfather clock below was chiming the fifth hour, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Cygnus stood immediately and went to meet her at the doorway. Cordelia Argall was easily the best witch in the arts of midwifery in all of Britain, with well over twenty years of practice and four children of her own. She had delivered all of Cygnus’s children and had assisted his wife, Druella, throughout each of her four pregnancies. There were few individuals who could command the respect of Cygnus Black by occupation alone, and the midwife was one of those individuals.

“It’s a girl,” Cordelia declared without preamble.

Cygnus’s heart sank.

He tried to hide the disappointment from his face even as his shoulders slumped forward. He ran a hand through his dark hair before stuffing them both into the pockets of his robes, averting the intensity of her gaze.

“She’s healthy,” she continued sternly. “All her limbs and joints are intact; her lungs are clear, and her breathing’s regular. She reacted well to the Magical Aptitude Probe. It’s not a guarantee, of course – magical ability in children is so fickle, takes a good couple of years to really be expressed – but it’s a good sign she’s normal.”

Cygnus gave a low grunt by way of a reply. Cordelia studied him closely for a moment before asking, “Will you come see the babe?”

Cygnus shook his head.

“Not tonight. My wife is surely exhausted, and the child will want to sleep. I will come down in the morning to relieve you, Cordelia.”

The witch gave him another critical one-over, but did not argue. They bid each other good night, and then she exited the study. He thought he caught the raspy cries of an infant, but it could well have been his imagination. He dragged a hand down his face as he turned his back to the doorway and returned to his chair. The glass of gin and tonic gazed up at him, offering its condolences, and he took it with gratitude.

Confound it all! They had taken all the necessary precautions, had engaged in all manners of strange rituals and practices - everything. He had been so sure, so _sure_ , that this time would be it, that he would secure his lineage with the birth of his third child.

Well, they had been sure with his first child as well, he thought bitterly, and look how that turned out.

A tug on his robes interrupted him from his musings.

“Father?”

The man glanced down at his side to find a small child looking up at him with large eyes, cradling a stuffed hippocampus in her right arm. A toddler still swaddled in a nappy, her speech was not yet fully developed, and as such she slurred around the letters, eliciting a word that sounded closer to “fawder” than the proper pronunciation. She was dressed in a floral nightgown, and her dark curls were all in disarray, forming a frizzy halo around her head. She had surely been awakened by her sister’s tantrum and had crawled out of bed to seek him out just moments ago.

“What is it, Andromeda?”

“I wanna see the baby!” she whined, in a way that indicated she had voiced this request several times before, but it had gone unnoticed. The man regarded her for a moment, mulling over the irony that the creature he was so reluctant to face was the sole object of this child’s desire. The babe that was surely, at that very moment, suckling on her mother’s teat, was his wife’s fourth pregnancy, their third child, and his final attempt to sire a son. Though the child beside him knew nothing of this and was therefore untroubled by such a thought, Cygnus could not stop brooding, could not squelch the rising disappointment that he would have no child to inherit the estate and carry on his family name when he himself was gone.

Another series of tugs on his robes brought his attention downward once more. In one swift motion, he grasped his daughter from underneath her arms and swung her up onto his lap. She gasped, clutching her plush toy more tightly, but smiled tentatively at him. Her dark grey eyes, identical to his own, bore into his.

“Why,” he murmured, more to himself than the toddler. “Why couldn’t it have been a boy? I would have been pleased had it been a boy. I needed a son – I _wanted_ a son. Must the world be so unkind? If you or your sister had been born a son, then this would have been acceptable. But as it stands…”

He shook his head. The little girl, not understanding a word, only that her father was clearly upset about something, reached out a tiny hand to pet his forehead, the tips of her chubby fingers brushing against his hairline.

“It’s okay, Father. It’s okay.”

Cygnus gave her a wry smile, touched by her naivety and innocence, if not by her ignorant reassurances. She leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, her lashes fluttering against his skin. Feeling a slight twinge of guilt for causing her worry, Cygnus wrapped his arms a bit more securely around her middle, hugging her close.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Can we go see the baby _now_?”

He let out a low sigh.

“Your mother will be tired, and the child will be sleeping. As should you be, young lady. You can see her tomorrow.”

“But I wanna-”

“No, Andromeda,” he said firmly, lifting her away from his chest to place her delicately on the floor. “It is late, and you should be in bed. Where is the nursemaid?”

He called for the maid and handed off the small child without another word. She twisted to glance at her father once, but made no further fuss at being taken back to bed. The study was silent once more.

Cygnus made his way to the window, watching the raindrops slither down the glass. There was nothing for it, he supposed. He would have to make the best of his current situation, ideal or not. All was not lost, he reminded himself. Though he had wanted to be the one to father the first grandson to his parents, there were other chances to continue the name of Black. His sister had been married six years already and was well overdue for bearing children. His brother Alphard, though yet unmarried, could not remain the free-thinking bachelor forever, and would surely settle down with a nice witch once he returned from his travels to Colombia.

With another heavy sigh of resignation, he turned from the window, making his way around the room to extinguish the candles. The room was plunged into darkness. He brandished his wand, holding it above his head to light the way out into the corridor, where he then turned left, towards his master chamber rather than the spare bedroom at the end of the hall. His wife would be lying with the infant, and with the midwife there to tend to her, there really was no need for him to spend the night without the comfort of his own bed.

All may not have been lost, but his chance for an heir was.

 


	2. Falling Behind

_September 1964_

A young girl ran out into the gardens, laughing happily, ebony curls flying wildly out behind her. Her eyes were squinted, a result of both the strong sunlight and laughter. Behind her, keeping pace easily, was a second girl, her skirts hitched up with one hand to her hip. She brushed away an unruly lock of dark hair, exposing her face. At first glance, the similarities between the two children were uncanny: the same bouncy curls, the same dark grey eyes, the same pointed nose. It was only upon closer inspection that one could identify the differences. The first child boasted black features, giving her a natural aura of mystery and intelligence, even at so young an age, while the second girl had a rounder, softer face with large, warm eyes.

The first child twisted around suddenly, hopping in place as she waited for her sister.

“Come on, Droma!” she called breathlessly. The younger girl, Droma, pumped her legs faster, laughing, and slipped her hand into the extended one. Together, the two girls ran, hand in hand.

“Bella! Droma! Wait for me!” came the gasps of a third child. She was much younger than the other two girls, and therefore much slower. Unlike her older sisters, she did not look all too pleased with this game of chase, and was turning very red in the face in her efforts to keep up. The little girl’s physique was quite different from the older girls’; her long hair streamed behind her, so blonde that it sparkled like gold in the sunlight. Her eyes were a striking blue instead of the stormy hues of her sisters.

“Go away, Cissy!” Droma yelled over her shoulder.

“You’re too little!” Bella added.

“Am not!” protested Cissy, pouting.

The three girls ran until the eldest two reached a tree halfway across the grounds. Up in the treetops sat an elaborate tree house. Droma paused at the base of the tree, allowing Bella to scramble up first. Then she grabbed the lowest hanging limb and pulled herself up after her sister.

By the time fair little Cissy reached the tree, both Droma and Bella were sitting on the porch of the tree house, panting breathlessly but happily. Cissy craned her neck to see her older sisters looking down at her. Then she looked at the lowest limb of the tree, uncertain. She teetered towards it, so that she stood right underneath it, but even on tip-toe it hung just out of her grip. Cautiously, she gave a little hop, arms outstretched in an attempt to grasp it in much the same way her sisters had. But when the bark scratched her fair palms, she gasped and backed away from the tree. She glanced up towards her sisters once more, looking dejected.

“Narcissa,” Bella called down to her between breaths. “You are too little. Go back to the house.”

“I don’t want to!” she whined. “And I am not too little – I’m _six_! I’m a big girl now!”

Bella and Droma exchanged looks, laughing.

“Go back to the house. Get one of the nursemaids to play with you,” Droma advised.

“But I don’t want to play with the nurses, I want to play with you. You _never_ play with me!” The longer Cissy stood there at the base of the tree, the closer she seemed to tears. Bella gave a great big huff and rolled her eyes in Droma’s direction.

“Well, that’s because _we_ don’t want to play with _you_ ,” Droma reasoned. “You are too little. Now, get yourself back to the house where you belong.”

“Why does Bella play with you?” Cissy demanded of Droma.

“Because Andromeda’s nine, Narcissa, and she can actually do things. Now go away!” Bella answered impatiently, tired of her playtime growing shorter. Then she turned her attention to Droma.

“I can’t believe I only have one year left!” she squealed, ignoring the little blonde girl bellow.

“I know! It’s so exciting! You better send me lots of owls and tell me what all the teachers are like. You are so lucky to be born first.”

“I bet Hogwarts is beautiful. Wish we were twins, then we could go together!” Bella exclaimed to Droma, who squealed in delighted agreement.

Down below, forgotten, Cissy whirled around and began the long run back to the house. She stumbled blindly to the house, the tears rushing down her flushed cheeks and blurring her vision. She hated them. She hated being the little sister.

All she wished for was to be a bit older so that she could reach that first limb and finally be able to play with Bellatrix and Andromeda.


	3. Beautiful Magic

_December 1965_

It was Christmas Eve, and the Black family was hosting their annual Winter Ball. The adults were all downstairs in the grand ballroom, sipping wine and dancing, eating and exchanging gossip. The Black children were all lounging in the big playroom, watched by the two nursemaids charged with looking after them. They were chatting amiably with each other by the doorway, pausing every now and then to cast a sharp eye about the room.

Cissy sat in the corner, watching her older sisters enviously. Bella was standing by the large window, proudly showing off tricks with her wand. She drew it in a large arch above her head so that glittering gold stars danced in the air above her. Droma laughed happily and clapped her hands, large eyes watching the wand greedily. Then Bella grabbed the cup beside her and transformed it into a beautiful red cardinal. Droma gasped in surprise and watched as the little red bird flapped its wings and darted across the rooms, chirping.

The girls’ cousins, Sirius and Regulus, paused in their fighting to investigate the source of the curious chirping sound. But when they discovered that it was just a bird, they continued to squabble over who would get to place the last block on their tower.

Cissy ran her little fingers through her doll’s long hair, feeling lonely. Bella and Droma didn’t want to play with her. They said she was too little. But she didn’t want to play with her cousins at all. Regulus was only four, and she didn’t want to play with a _baby_. Sirius had turned six in November and wouldn’t have been so bad a playmate if he hadn’t already proven himself to be very rowdy and an incredibly poor follower of her rules. So she sat in the corner with her knees tucked under her. She knew Mother would scold her about the creases in her new silk dressrobes but she didn’t care. Right now she just wanted somebody to play with her.

“Here, Droma, I’ll teach you how to levitate things.”

Droma beamed and waited patiently as her sister positioned her fingers in the proper way to hold the wand. Cissa watched longingly as Bella took Droma’s arm and gently pulled it into a long swish and then a downward flick.

“This is the wrist movement,” Bella explained as she guided her sister’s hand through the movement. “You point it to whatever object you want to lift. And then the spell is ‘Wingardium leviosa’.”

Droma lifted a delicate eyebrow.

“Wing-are-drum levi-o-saw?” She giggled at the difficulty of repeating nonsense words. Bella smiled.

“No, Droma. Win-gar-dium. Got it?” Droma nodded, and Bella released her sister’s wrist. “Ok, just try the wrist movement.” No longer smiling but looking extremely focused, Droma brought her wrist into a long swish, and then flicked it down. She looked at Bella expectantly to see if she had done it correctly, and when her older sister smiled, Droma returned it with a huge grin.

“That’s the easy part. But, if you can believe it, we spent a whole week working on just that – just the wrist movement! I couldn’t believe how slow some of them were.”

“Well, I suppose the Muggle-borns would take a bit longer to get the hang of it,” Droma reasoned, extending Bella’s wand and once again running through the movement to be able to levitate something. Bella laughed and then continued to instruct Droma on the proper way to complete the spell.

The little girl in the corner watched with growing envy. Bella had not even let her _touch_ her wand – it was new, bought this past summer at Diagon Alley. Of course, Cissy had not been allowed to go on the trip to Diagon Alley. This hadn’t seemed so very unfair, until Bella had argued that she wanted Droma to go with her. So Cissy had watched from her bedroom window as Mother marched Bellatrix and Andromeda out the front gates of Eigyr Court.

Just then, the enchanted cardinal landed just a tad farther than an arm’s length away from Cissy. It cocked its head to the side, looking at her with one beady eye. Cissy froze, not wanting to scare it away. It was such a beautiful bit of magic. She had not wanted to like any of Bella’s magic, but it was true what everyone had said: Bella _was_ extremely talented. She was only half-way through her first year but was accomplishing spells and enchantments that second-years struggled to perform.

The cardinal hopped a bit closer and chirped questioningly before hopping twice more towards Cissy. Not wanting to frighten it, the girl breathed cautiously, slowly. She couldn’t wait until she got her letter for Hogwarts. Then she would get to go to Diagon Alley and shop for ingredients and books and a cauldron and quills and parchment and an owl or a cat, if she so wanted. Most of all, she couldn’t wait to get a wand. When she got a wand, then she could do beautiful magic, like Bella, like Droma would be able to do next year.

“GOTCHA!”

The yell startled Cissy so much she screamed. Bella and Droma snapped their attention to Cissy’s corner of the room, where Sirius was sprawled across the floor an arm’s length away from her. His younger brother Regulus was standing by his knee, chortling loudly. The two maids were frowning at the children, alert.

“Is everything all right?” one of the two asked. Regulus nodded, still laughing, clapping his hands. Bella rolled her eyes, not bothering to answer the maid before turning back to Droma, who shook her head at their childishness (she thought she was so big, now that she had reached the double-digits).

“Yes, all is fine, Louisa, thank you,” she informed the maid, and then returned to levitating a small children’s book of rhymes.

But all was not fine. Not for Cissy, who sat in shock, eyes never leaving the place where the red cardinal had been. Sirius opened his cupped hands, but where a little red bird should have been standing there was just a pile of bright red dust.

“Aw, man, where’d it go?” Sirius exclaimed, pushing himself up to his knees. He stared at the pile of red dust, contemplating it. Then he shrugged and got up to his feet.

Cissy’s blue eyes met Sirius’s, cold and unfriendly, in an accusatory glare. He blinked.

“What?” he demanded, but when she said nothing he just walked away.

Cissy stared at the small pile of bright red dust, the remains of Bella’s beautiful magic, the beautiful magic that she herself longed to do.

Yes, Cissy could not wait to get her very own wand. She could not wait to do her own beautiful magic; her own beautiful magic that she would never, ever let die.


	4. Feuds of Forgiveness

_September 1966_

Andromeda Black leaned out the window, waving at her parents, beaming excitedly. The day was finally here! It was the first of September, and she was finally off to Hogwarts. She couldn’t wait to get there, to see the castle in all its splendor. Would it be exactly like Bella had described? But of course it would; Bella never lied to her.

The past two weeks had been busy with the scurrying to buy school supplies. This time, when she had gone to Diagon Alley with Bella, she was running through her own list, checking off items she had already bought, running to find the best quality of everything. The best part had been finding her wand – or, rather, letting her wand find her. And then she had been allowed to pick out an owl, and she had chosen the horned owl because it was so big and graceful.

Druella and Cygnus both wore small smiles, hands waving slightly as they waited for the Hogwarts Express to take their daughters to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Between them, Cissy stood looking very sad and pitiful. Only eight years old, it would be another three years before her little sister would be attending Hogwarts. Bella had left, taking Andromeda’s trunk, to find a compartment. A second-year, she was no longer bothered by the fact that she would not be seeing her parents until the Christmas holidays. It had not seemed like such a big deal to Andromeda when she had been arguing with her mother over exactly what she was too young for, but now that the day had come and she was standing inside the Hogwarts Express, her stomach was doing flip-flops, and she was both nervous and excited.

Thank Merlin for Bella!

Suddenly, the whistle blew and Andromeda clutched onto the open window, unbalanced as the deep red engine lurched to a start. She yelled out one final good-bye to her parents and little sister, then went to go find Bella.

Andromeda passed several compartments, each one full of students, and none of them holding her older sister. Worried that she may have skipped a compartment or perhaps had overlooked Bella in one of the compartments, she was about to turn back and begin her search anew when she heard an unfamiliar, cool voice behind her.

“Back again, Black? I’m surprised they let you into the school again. My father told me about your little – ah – mishap last year.”

Andromeda spun about, wary and mistrustful. The speaker was a boy, about Bella’s age, very pale and with sleek, white blond hair. He had light grey eyes that would have been very attractive had they not been so jeering.

Andromeda stared at him coolly, confused. He seemed familiar but she couldn’t quite remember from where or who he was. She could not figure out how he knew her. Either way, she wasn’t liking his attitude.

“Whatever,” she replied, rolling her eyes before turning away with her nose in the air.

“Hey!” He lunged for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her around to face him. Only he had now been joined by another boy. This one was tall and thick, with a chubby face, and eyes and hair the color of mud. He looked younger, about her own age. Both boys were glaring at her with cold eyes.

Andromeda was suddenly frightened. This was her first day, she had not yet gotten to the castle, and already the boys were picking on her! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Andromeda brought her free arm back and curled her fingers into a tight fist. She was thinking how shocked her mother would be when she got word that her second daughter had been so uncouth and unladylike as to punch another student when a wand suddenly appeared near her face. The wand, however, was not pointing at her.

“Malfoy, get your filthy hands off of my sister!”

The familiar voice was quiet but filled with barely contained anger.

The blond boy, this Malfoy boy, released his grip on her, looking very confused. Andromeda stumbled backwards to stand next to Bella, immensely relieved, pulling out her own wand. She studied the blond boy coolly. Bella had called him Malfoy; she recognized the name, if not the face. The Malfoys were a pureblood family that was old friends of her grandfather. The confusion on the blond boy’s face disappeared as he understood what had just occurred. His big friend, however, had not.

“There’s two of you?” he asked dumbly, looking at Bella, then Andromeda, and back again. Bella rolled her eyes.

“No, you idiot, didn’t you hear me? This is-”

“No, Crabbe, Black has not learned how to duplicate herself. She has simply brought a tag along.” Although he was addressing his friend, Malfoy never once let his steady cool gaze stray from Bella’s face. “I was not under the impression that your younger sister was to be joining us so soon.”

“Well, she has, and she’ll be in your year. What’s the matter, Malfoy? Scared?” Bella taunted.

“Scared? What for? I have nothing against your sister.” Malfoy glanced at Andromeda and offered a tiny smile that did not reach his eyes. Andromeda held his gaze without flinching, raising her chin just a fraction.

“I am sure she understands that what occurred was just a mistake and will forgive me. The school year might even make us close friends,” he continued smoothly. Bella opened her mouth to retort, but Andromeda intercepted her.

“Of course I understand,” she replied, just as smoothly as the fair boy. Her lips curled with the hint of a smile. “Many others have made the same mistake you have. Let us shake on it and forget it ever occurred.”

Bella shot her sister a dark, accusing look and hissed “Droma!” under her breath, but Andromeda ignored her.

Malfoy glanced at Bella over Andromeda’s shoulder, smirking. He was confident as he sauntered to meet Andromeda. She smiled sweetly and slowly extended a hand. He flashed Bella another smirk before extending a pale hand. But just before Andromeda’s fingers met his, she reeled her hand back and punched him square in the nose.

“Yes, I’ll forgive you,” she told the boy, who was now bent over clutching his nose, over Bella’s laugh of glee and his groans of pain. And before Crabbe could even register what had happened and react upon it, Andromeda had grabbed Bella’s hand and allowed her to lead the way to their compartment, laughing all the way there.

And so began the feud between the heir of Malfoy and the daughters of Black.

 


	5. Summer Squables

_July 1967_

Narcissa sat with her legs folded on the soft grass. It was warm outside, but pleasantly so, the sun peeking out from between the large, fluffy clouds to kiss her face as she turned towards it like a flower. It was a beautiful summer day, calm and peaceful, the chirping of the birds interrupted only on occasion by Sirius and Regulus, who were chasing each other across the yard, leaping and stumbling and hollering all the way. Sirius, who was seven, had hit a growth spurt, and had grown almost two whole inches over the long winter. Older, taller, and faster, it hardly seemed a fair match to set Sirius against Regulus, who was not yet six, and yet neither boy seemed aware of this disparity. Mother and Aunt Walburga sat on the shaded patio, sipping tea and exchanging pleasantries and small talk, wands lying on the small round table between them. Sitting between them was Bellatrix, looking more like a young lady than a child now, and appeared to be following the conversation with interest, if only for the illusion of appearing mature. Andromeda had started out sitting across from Bellatrix, but she must have grown bored because she had offered to braid Narcissa’s hair even before the tea was set out.

Narcissa had consented delightedly, which was how she had found herself to be sitting in the bare grass without anyone scolding her for it. The steady rhythm of the brush through her hair had lulled her into quiet contentedness, and she didn’t even mind the not-so-light tugs on her scalp as Andromeda’s cool fingers weaved her hair into an intricate design. She loved these moments, the ones where her sisters actually slowed down to pay her mind, to find out what she wanted to do, even if they did spend so much of their time rejecting her. No one was calling her a baby; no one was telling her to go away. It was such a wonderful feeling, to be wanted by Andromeda – to be loved, not resented.

Then the brushing and the tugging all stopped. Narcissa opened her eyes, blinking against the sunlight. She waited patiently for Andromeda to start up again.

“Well, it’s certainly not perfect, but it will do,” Andromeda announced, sounding satisfied. Narcissa heard the whisper of silk robes brushing against grass blades as Andromeda crawled around to scrutinize her work from the front. Narcissa sat quite still as her sister’s grey eyes roamed her head. Andromeda made several last minute touches, using her spit to flatten fly-aways but the younger girl did not seem to mind, or even notice. She was watching Andromeda’s face, watching her sister’s deep grey eyes as they scanned her face and hair.

“There! All done!” Andromeda declared happily. Rising to her feet, she pulled out her wand and summoned a hand mirror. Andromeda handed the gold mirror to the child, who gazed into it eagerly. It was beautiful, what Andromeda had done! Anyone could see that it was not perfect – far from it – but Narcissa rather thought that she had never seen a more beautiful hairdo. Half of her long blonde hair was pulled up into a bun, with strings of thin braids twirling into it. Andromeda had even stuck in some little white wild flowers. Narcissa saw her sister wander over to their mother from the corner of her eye, but did not follow, so absorbed was she in admiring her hair. She smiled at her reflection, radiant, and seemingly oblivious to the sagging locks and rebellious strands of hair that refused to be pulled into the ‘do.

“Careful, Cissy, you’ll break the mirror!” A loud, obnoxious boy’s voice rang out in her ear. Narcissa dropped the mirror immediately, turning her head to scowl at her cousin. He laughed loudly before reaching over to pull her hair – hard. Narcissa screamed, in pain and in rage, before jumping to her feet. But Sirius was already dashing away, yelling taunting phrases over his shoulder between laughs. As she raced after him, Regulus joined in on his brother’s side. Furious, she set off after him after he came and pushed her. Trust Sirius and Regulus to ruin a perfect day!

“Aunt Walburga and Mother say to stop immediately! Come on, you three, stop fooling around!” Andromeda was jogging alongside her, just far enough to be left out of the squabble.

“Sirius started it!” Narcissa slowed to a stop, breathing heavily. But her moment’s pause gave Sirius the time he needed to sneak up behind her and yank on her blonde locks once more. She gave a shrill scream, close to tears now as she set of after him again, wondering furiously why Andromeda didn’t hex Sirius and Regulus.

“Sirius!” Andromeda yelled at his back. A flash of purple streaked by Narcissa’s face, startling her into a halt. She watched as the purple hit Sirius square in the back, and he tumbled to the ground, giving a yell of surprise. Narcissa turned around and found Bellatrix standing not too far away, wand out and glaring furiously at the boys. Then everyone began to speak at once.

“Bella! That was horrid!”

“What you did to Sirius! What you did to Sirius!”

“I hexed him, you little gnome, and if you’re not careful I’ll do the same to you.”

“He’s only five; you can’t expect him to behave properly!”

“Sirius pulled my hair! He ruined my braids – he ruined everything!”

“Droma, anyone who hurts my sisters is eligible to be jinxed. He had it coming.”

“He’s seven, Bella; he’s _little_!”

“I am _not_ little, and if I had a wand like you do I could have taken you on! Just you see, when I get a wand-”

“Shut up, Sirius.”

“ _Bella_!”

“Don’t tell my brother to shut up!”

“You’re _mean_ Sirius! You’re mean and I hate you-”

“Go away, Cissy-”

“Don’t touch me!”

“Would the two of you-”

“ _Enough_!”

The voice resonated above the bickering of the cousins, commanding and full of authority. Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius, and Regulus all glanced up to where two grown witches were looming over them, wands in hand, faces darkened with The Look that only mothers could achieve. Druella and Walburga Black then proceeded to scold the children, silencing their attempts to defend themselves with chilling looks.

But adult assistance had, in Narcissa’s opinion, come too late. Her braids, done by Andromeda with patience and care, were now hanging limp and undone. Narcissa stood with tears of frustration and dejection threatening to spill over as her mother and aunt lectured them on decent behavior. She lowered her head to scowl at the grass.

She hated that boy – hated him, hated him, _hated_ him.


	6. Beauty You won't See

_July 1969_

Andromeda sat before the giant mirror with the elaborate, pure-gold rim. This mirror, like so many other items found throughout Eigyr Court, was an antique, and handed down generation after generation. The solid gold frame was mined and wielded by dwarfs of the Transylvanian Mountains. Dancing around the frame were various scenes of well-known stories – two fearsome dragons entwined around each other in a duel, a cauldron with a single foot, a majestic unicorn touching its horn to the outstretched arm of a maiden, Babbitty as a rabbit poking out of a tree stump. The figures were carved delicately, and no detail – not even the scales of the dragons – was carved absentmindedly.

It was a beautiful piece, to be sure.

And so it was with despondent bitterness that Andromeda recognized the stark contrast between the majestic mirror and the unremarkable face staring pitifully out from its reflecting glass.

The second Black daughter turned her head left and right, scrutinizing her face in every possible angle, trying to find something remarkable on the surface that would reflect the individuality within. But she could not find anything – not in the brown waves that bounced over her shoulders, not the grey eyes, not the thin dark eyebrows or the clear complexion. Because none of these, Andromeda reminded herself, was all that special. She was pretty, it was true, but next to her sisters, who were _beautiful_ , she was a troll.

Bellatrix held all the confidence of a goddess. Her dark features contrasted with her milky skin so perfectly that, mixed with her saucy attitude, she was a dark Victorian beauty. Her tangles of curls, blacker and richer than ebony, rippled down her back in disorganized perfection; sex hair, that’s what the boys called it. Her eyes were cobalt, rimmed with thick black lashes, set beneath high-arching black eyebrows. They were always lit with a haughty coolness. When she gave you her attention, she always seemed to be silently daring you to try and be better than her. She had been blessed with curves in all the right places, in all the right sizes. Her ambitious nature and uncanny ability to twist everything one said made her a terrible enemy and a powerful friend.

Then there was Narcissa; beautiful, baby Cissy, who was not such a baby anymore. She, too, had pale skin, softened by her light features. Her blonde hair was long, silky. The light lashes laced dazzling blue eyes that held all the innocence of a sheltered eleven-year-old. She was all poise and soft confidence, and did not flaunt what she had – she didn’t have to. The boys that gravitated towards her were different from those who lusted after Bella, but they too could never get enough of her. Girls liked her as well, for she was soft-spoken and polite, and was above publicly displaying what she called “ugly” emotions. Cissy was sweet and soft, angelic and amiable, with a quiet strength.

Stuck in between was Andromeda. Nothing special, nothing to distinguish her. She had Bella’s mess of curls, but had no aura of mystery; that was lost in the muddy coloring. Her eyes did not pierce the soul or melt the heart; they were just a standard grey, with standard brown eyelashes stuck onto standard pale lids. Her pale skin didn’t glow like Bella’s or Cissy’s; instead it made her look sickly, as if she would do far better setting up a permanent residence at St. Mungo’s.

The only good thing she could see was that her skin was clean and clear – oh, no, she didn’t even have that much. There it was, a small red zit, poking up at her hairline.

Andromeda sighed unhappily, eyes rolling across her reflection, noting that she looked like a washed out version of Bella. But of course, if all Bella’s most notable features were washed out, it didn’t leave Bella.

It left _her_ , looking about as exquisite as a Muggle.

And so she turned away from the extraordinarily beautiful mirror, sparing it the shame of having to behold her ordinary face.


	7. Mark of Maturity

_August 1969_

It had started as an ordinary day. Druella had gone off with Cygnus to Knockturn Alley to order some items. Their daughters had taken the day to relax inside. Bellatrix and Andromeda had escaped their younger sister by claiming to have lots of homework. It was not a complete lie: they had received homework to be completed for the upcoming year of Hogwarts, and their procrastination would find them scrambling to finish essays and charts on the last week. But after drawing out their school books and unrolling a length of parchment each, the two girls had decided that this was not the day for homework. This was the day for relaxing.

Andromeda was sprawled out on her bed, head propped up on one hand, the other drawing figures in the air with her wand. Bellatrix was lying on her back, head resting against her sister’s back. It was a cool August day, and so the shades were pulled back, welcoming the warmth and light of the sun, and the large windows drawn up, allowing the cool breeze to sweep through the room. It was a peaceful scene, with both sisters content simply to be in each others’ company.

Until Narcissa came rushing in.

The bedroom door banged open, and both dark-haired girls sat up, startled. Narcissa’s long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her wide eyes, which for the whole summer had shined with the anxious excitement of starting Hogwarts, were filled with fright.

“What’s the matter, Cissy?” Bellatrix asked, concerned, as Andromeda slipped off the bed to place an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. Narcissa placed a slender, pale hand on her sister’s, eyes darting between those of Bellatrix and Andromeda. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then flushed and said nothing. Andromeda exchanged a puzzled look with Bellatrix.

“Cissy, if you aren’t going to tell us what’s wrong, then you can figure it out yourself and leave,” Bellatrix informed her impatiently. She loved her little sister but she just didn’t have the patience to deal with this beating-around-the-bush nonsense.

“I…I” Narcissa stammered nervously. Then, “I’m bleeding.” She looked near tears. Bellatrix frowned, confused.

“Where?” Andromeda asked. Bellatrix shot her a look and was surprised to see an amused look upon her face. What did she know that Bella herself could not decipher?

Narcissa turned a light shade of pink as she pointed below, eyes downcast, refusing to look at either of her sisters. It was then that Bellatrix understood. She laughed, relieved that this was not a major disaster of any kind.

“Well, this is going to be awkward.” Andromeda straightened up, letting her arms fall back to her sides.

“No it’s not,” Bellatrix objected. “You just began menstruating, Cissy. It’s completely normal.”

“You _do_ know what menstruation is, right?” Andromeda demanded, looking like she would very much appreciate not having to get into an explanation. Narcissa scowled, but the anger was drowned with the fright and helplessness that ruled her face.

“Of course I know what that is! But why is this happening? Why I am getting this _now_?” She seemed close to tears.

“It just happens, Cissy, no big deal.” Bellatrix flopped back down, almost bored now. “Just put on a rag and drop some Hauriendum on it. You’ll be fine.”

Narcissa still looked frightened, though not quite so helpless. Then Bellatrix sat up, a grin on her face.

“Aw! Cissy, you’re growing up! Oh, Cissy, you’re not a baby anymore!”

“I wasn’t a baby before, Bella!” she replied angrily, contradicting the statement by sticking out her tongue. Andromeda sighed, took her sister by the hand, and led her to a bathroom. There, she handed her a thin white rag and a small vial with a rubber stopper. A dropper extended from the rubber, dipping into a creamy white potion that Andromeda explained was Hauriendum, a heavy absorption potion. Narcissa turned bright red as Andromeda explained how to align the rag on her knickers and then squeeze eight droplets of the potion onto it. She still looked uncertain when she took the rag and vial from her sister.

“I’ll wait for you back in my room, okay?” Andromeda gave her little sister a reassuring smile, and then left. Back in her bedroom, Bellatrix was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, an amused smirk on her lips.

“How are you so calm about this?” Andromeda asked her, flopping herself across Bellatrix’s stomach. Bellatrix let out a “ _oomph,_ ” and smacked her sister across the head but didn’t push her off.

“You stop finding it weird and embarrassing after a while. All girls go through it, so it’s not like you’re alone. And then soon you don’t care if the boys know. As far as I’m concerned, it’s _because_ I menstruate once a month that they are so interested in us. They can’t screw us if we don’t get it, you know.”

Andromeda said nothing, a bit uncomfortable with Bellatrix’s blunt way of addressing such a topic.

Narcissa entered the room once more, this time without the slamming of the bedroom door or the frightened eyes. Instead, she looked uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Narcissa scowled up at her sisters.

“It’s bothersome and uncomfortable and I don’t like it.”

The laughter began with Andromeda, and then quickly spread to Bellatrix. It took a while to reach Narcissa but soon she too joined her sisters on the bed and the laughter.


	8. Belonging

_September 1969_

The huge doors opened, revolving slowly on their hinges. She took a deep breath before walking through them, following the procession of other first-years. Her clear blue eyes took in the large room, the many floating candles that illuminated the room with a golden glow, the ceiling that looked like the sky, the teachers sitting in a row in elaborate high-backed chairs at the front, the faces of the older students, the battered old hat sitting upon a three-legged stool.

They piled at the front of the room, she just one of the many. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. The professor began calling out names alphabetically by surname. She would be among the first to be called. She would be among the first to be sorted. She had no fears, no doubts, no worries. This was her place; this was her right.

“Alvarez, Jessica” walked to the Hufflepuff table on shaking legs, a relieved look on her freckled face.

“Avery, Catarina” sat for almost a whole two minutes before being sorted into Slytherin.

“Black, Narcissa!” came the loud, clear call. Eyes searched, curious, for the face to the name. She smiled slightly and, raising her chin ever so slightly, floated to the stool. She turned, and then placed herself gracefully upon the seat, facing the seated students and the group of anxious newcomers. Her eyes did not search for comfort or scan the rows of faces for familiar ones. She was all confidence, poise. She belonged here.

The hat was placed over her head. It slid down her forehead, tattered brim hitting her nose. It hissed in her ear, whispered things about herself. She barely listened. She didn’t need a dusty old hat to tell her what she was capable of. She didn’t need a dusty old hat to tell her where she belonged. She was here. She had yearned for this day for so long and now it had finally come!

Then the decision rang through the Hall: “Slytherin!”

Narcissa pulled the hat off from her head, setting it daintily down upon the stool once more, nearly skipping with glee to the table on the right. The table that was now clapping and hooting welcomingly for her. The table clad in silver and green. Narcissa sat beside Catarina Avery, the girl from the train, already her best friend. Then she turned to beam at the two familiar faces – the two faces that mattered the most. Bellatrix and Andromeda beamed back.

Narcissa Black settled on the bench, smiling to herself, knowing that she was finally at Hogwarts, where she would finally learn how to do beautiful magic.


End file.
